


Bim Trimmer and the Case of the Missing Candy

by a_nonny_moose



Series: 100 Quote Prompts [20]
Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 08:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11619966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: Wilford's lost his stash (stache), and forces the others to help.





	Bim Trimmer and the Case of the Missing Candy

"I just don't think we're compatible."

"We're not-- wait, what?" Bim stopped, eyes wide. His aura shot back into him, like water into a sponge. 

Dark turned from the kitchen cabinet he was rifling through, a mocking pout on his face. "I'm flattered, Bim, I really am-- I just think you're too _good_ for me." 

For once, Bim was at a loss for words, his face going red. "I didn't-- I mean-- I was--"

"It's quite all right," Dark whispered, brushing past him, arms laden with a tray, covered in a napkin. "I understand if I'm too... irresistible for you." A flash of gleaming teeth, and Dark was gone. 

Bim repressed a full-body shudder, Dark's lidded gaze making him more uncomfortable than he'd ever been. "I was just going to ask you to do the dishes," he muttered to no one, stomping over to the overflowing sink. 

It was past midnight, now, and the inhabitants of the office had just finished a rare quiet evening together. The Googles had played chess, beating Tyler once; the Host and Dr. Iplier shuffled cards, Amy and Kathryn watching as the Host explained the game; Bim, Ethan, and Wilford bickered over the movie selection, Mark scolding them. Even Dark came down, at Mark's request, to play a bit of music for them all. 

It was oddly peaceful, come time to turn in. 

The humans had left happy, the Egos reenergized by Mark's presence. As each of them went to their rooms for the night, Bim had found himself alone in an intolerably messy house. With a sigh, he'd started cleaning, but dreaded doing the dishes. When he'd heard Dark's aura ringing, feet shuffling down the hallway, it was obvious what he should do. 

What he wasn't expecting was Dark to take it as a compliment. 

Scrubbing bits of food off of a plate, Bim shuddered again. He was _Bim Trimmer_ , dammit, he could get along with anyone. He and Wilford had been working together, producing some interviews, and their partnership was going well. The Googles, he'd like to think, tolerated him-- Green even seemed happy to have someone to explain his latest project to. Bim liked to think the Host liked having him around, someone quiet to read with, or read to. Even Dr. Iplier took the time to chat, when he wasn't on call. 

Yeah, Bim thought. He was well-liked, and talented to boot. Dark just had a stick up his butt, that was all. 

Bim held up the plate he'd just cleaned, seeing his own reflection in the shined surface. 

"Hey, handsome," he joked, grinning at himself. Why anyone, least of all Dark, could hate _him_ , he'd never--

"Oh, hello."

Bim almost dropped the plate, fingers wet and fumbling. "W-Wilford?!"

Wilford stepped into the darkened kitchen in his pajamas, socked feet silent against the floor. As Bim's closest friend, Wilford knew that Bim's powers had a maddeningly effective hold over him, using their working relationship to his advantage. 

If he didn't know better, he'd say that Bim was the equivalent of Dark, standing there in his suit. 

"What're you doing here?" Bim stuttered out, hastily stacking the clean plate on its pile. Wilford had come too late-- the sink was already clear, and Bim felt a vague flash of annoyance. 

"I wanted a bedtime snack," Wilford said, raising an eyebrow. "What're _you_ doing here?"

Bim gestured to the now spotless kitchen, mock indignation creeping into his voice. "You _animals_ left this place a mess, how do you expect me to sleep?"

Wilford, now rummaging through the pantry, chuckled. "Sounds like Mr. _Handsome_ needs his _beauty sleep_ ," he ribbed. 

Bim scowled good-naturedly at the back of Wilford's head, considering throwing a cup at it. "Shut up."

Wilford pulled a bulging pillowcase from the depths of a shelf. Bim, curious, shuffled quietly up behind him to peek over his shoulder. "What's that?"

Wilford's response was muffled by the candy already in his mouth. "Mff ah-oh-een an-ee."

"Come again?"

Wilford opened the pillowcase, gesturing for Bim to look inside as he stuffed another handful into his face. Bim gasped a little. "Your Halloween candy?"

All unwrapped, and miraculously ant-free. 

Wilford nodded, sending the contents of a Pixie Stick everywhere but his mouth. 

"Wilford, it's _July_. How _long_ have you been saving this?"

A shrug, and Wilford was gathering enough candy to feed a small army. The pillowcase, still half full, disappeared into the recesses of the pantry. 

"Doc's not going to like this," Bim warned, closing the cabinet door as Wilford made for the hallway. 

Wilford froze, and Bim could practically see his brain ticking. "Well, he's not going to find out, right, Bim?"

"Well.."

"You wouldn't." Wilford turned, glaring. A lone peppermint dropped from his arms, skittering onto the floor. 

"Oh, but I might," Bim said, voice smooth. "Unless..."

Wilford shook off Bim's aura with an almighty effort. "What do you _want_?" he snapped, mustache quivering in indignation. 

"Half the candy--"

"Done."

"--and," Bim said, "the dishes done for the rest of the month."

Wilford had to consider for a moment, staring Bim down in the dimness of the kitchen. A clock chimed, 1am. Bim only smiled. 

"...fine." Wilford huffed, turning on his heel, avoiding Bim's triumphant eyes. He stopped down the hallway, and Bim heard his door slam. 

With a final, satisfied glance around the kitchen, Bim started for his own room at the end of the hall. 

The crack under Wilford's door was glowing with some awful movie and the sound of crunching candy. Dark's door, predictably, was pitch black at all corners, and Bim walked past it a little faster. Dr. Iplier's doorway stood open ever so slightly-- as Bim walked past, he caught sight of a nightlight, the Doctor fast asleep in a pile of papers, shoes still on his feet. Bim chuckled to himself, quietly, and closed the door. He hurried past the Googles' door, hoping not to catch their attention. Being robots, he swore that they sometimes forgot that the other Egos actually needed sleep. Flashes of light under their door illuminated Bim's feet as he tiptoed by, praying he wouldn't be asked to come in as a test subject. The Host's door, close to the end of the hall, sent flickers of candlelight over the opposite side of the corridor. But as Bim passed it, the light snuffed itself out. 

Bim looked down the hallway one last time before heading to bed. They were his family, really, each behind their own closed door, odd lights still flashing from the Googles' room. And, with the exception of Dark, they all liked him, Bim Trimmer. 

He crawled into bed worn out, exhausted, but as content as he'd ever been. Bim drifted off to sleep, hoping he could sleep in tomorrow before Wilford's next show. 

No such luck.

* * *

"There's been a murder!"

Wilford woke up the office at the crack of dawn, screaming like Paul Revere, dressed in his signature pink pajamas, pursued by an angry black cloud of smoke. By the time he'd reached the conference room, the had cloud engulfed him, muting his screams. 

One by one, the other Egos hurried into the room and took their places at the table. Dark, suit immaculate as ever, sat at the head. His aura, still muzzling Wilford, rang impatiently across the room. Dark brushed hair out of his face and tiredly took a sip of coffee, as if Wilford's announcement was commonplace enough to justify waiting. 

The Host scurried in next, bandages askew, bat held in front of him like a cane, coat wrapped haphazardly around him. Dr. Iplier followed, hurriedly helping the Host fix his eyes and take a seat. Dr. Iplier, once seated comfortably near Wilford's end of the table, took a large swig of coffee, almost staining yesterday's crumpled shirt and coat. "This had better be worth it," he muttered to no one. 

Google_R, _B, and Oliver walked in next, taking chairs on one side of the table: each of them looking as alert as if they'd never slept in the first place. Dark raised an eyebrow languidly as Google_B, but the robot only sighed in annoyance. 

Finally, Google_G ushered Bim, still in pajamas, into the room and pushed him into the closest seat. Skirting Dark's aura, which still held Wilford silent, he too took his place next to his brothers. 

Dark cleared his throat a little, calling everyone's sleepy attention to him. 

"Wilford," he said, more dangerously than anyone at the table would like, "why exactly have you called us here?"

Dark's aura drifted back across the table towards him, leaving Wilford gasping for air in its absence, and each person at the table leaning back to avoid it. Almost like the coils of a snake, the smoky tendrils draped themselves over Dark before dissipating into a quiet, angry ringing. 

Wilford glared at Dark pointedly. "I was _saying_ ," he huffed, the color returning to his mustache, "there's been a murder!"

Dr. Iplier and Google_R made eye contact, briefly. Dark leaned forward, eyes glinting unreadably. "Yes, Wilford," he said, smiling gently, "there's been a murder. I'm sure we all heard that. _Who_ ," he suddenly snapped, aura rearing up, "was murdered?"

Every Ego alert enough to flinch did, watching Dark's tendrils of smoke flick forward. 

Wilford, dramatically as ever, pulled something from behind his back. Bim, finally awake, groaned in chagrin. 

"This," he said triumphantly, "is what was murdered."

Dark stared at the pillowcase on the conference table, ripped at the seams, filled only with stray candy wrappers. Dr. Iplier, sensing the danger, jumped in. 

"Wilford, thank you for sharing," he said, as if to a child, "but this really isn't--" He faltered under Wilford's glare, trailing into silence. 

Dark, to his credit, took a deep breath before replying, all eyes turned to him. "Yes, Wilford, the fate of your candy stash is surely an issue for--" he checked his wrist as though there were a watch on it, mocking, "--6am, the very crack of dawn." A deadly sneer, and the weak-stomached at the table looked away. "I'm _sure_ that no one here has _anything_ else they'd rather be doing." With that, Dark stood to end the discussion. 

"No, y'know what? No."

A pink _splat_ hit the door, and Dark stepped back with a look of disgust. The last of the sleepy members of the room jolted fully awake. 

It was as if Wilford had sneezed on the door. Pink, almost translucent goop covered the entire wall, viscous drops hardening into a strange crust. Dr. Iplier, consumed more with curiosity than shock, jumped up to look at it. 

"Sit down," Wilford growled, eyes almost flashing pink. The room slowly turned its horrified gaze from the door, now impassable, to Wilford. Dr. Iplier, silent, sat back down. 

Dark glowered at Wilford over the heads of everyone else at the table. "This is _childish_ , Wilford."

"No one in this house listens to me," Wilford growled, gesturing for Dark to sit down. "No one goes _anywhere_ until _I_ know who did this."

Dark stood still at his end of the table, hands folded neatly behind his back. He raised an eyebrow mockingly, but slowly resumed his seat with a smile playing about his lips. "Fine," he said, amused. "As you wish."

The rest of the Egos looked at Dark, acquiescing, in astonishment. The Host chuckled darkly, the only sound in the room. 

Dr. Iplier was the first to protest, the rest of the room following. The roar of dissent grew louder and louder, Dark, the Host, and Wilford the only silent ones. 

"Wilford, this is ridiculous, I have _patients_ to attend to--"

"You cannot _keep_ us here--"

"I have to go edit today, your stupid show will _never_ go up on time if I don't--"

"My agenda today does not include your _distractions_ \--"

Wilford fired his gun twice into the ceiling, shocking them all into silence. 

"Look," he said, dust settling on his shoulders, "Warfstache has taken enough of this _shit_ from you guys. Help me just this once," he said, almost pleading, but fingers twitching on his gun, "and you can all go." 

Dark, stretched out in his own chair, hummed in agreement. The only thing missing, Dr. Iplier thought, with a flash of annoyance, was a bucket of popcorn for him to enjoy the show. 

The Host was silent, a smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Oliver was the first to speak. "Fine," he said, echoing Dark. "Whomsoever it was that did this, confess now." His eyes flashed a dangerous yellow. "The Doctor will patch you up afterwards."

Predictably, there was silence. 

Wilford growled in frustration, leaning forward over the table. Those closest to him leaned away. "If no one's going to confess to eating all of _my candy_ , then we'll figure this out the hard way." He lifted his gun, pointing it at each Ego in turn. Dark didn't bother to hide his smile. 

Google_R stared down the barrel of the gun, lost in thought. When he spoke, it was with amusement in his voice. 

"It may be most prudent to look for clues, first, Wilford."

Wilford struggled unsuccessfully to keep a smile from his face. "Like a detective?" he managed.

Dark drawled from his end of the table, "Yes, exactly."

Bim looked first at Dr. Iplier, looking throughly annoyed with Wilford, then at the Googles, all whirring with interest. The Host and Dark sat nearly side by side, enjoying the show, smirking maddeningly. Finally, Wilford, nearly pink with rage. Bim's head whirled, first with confusion, then with solutions. 

Google_B stood, shooting a glance at Wilford. This might not have been his favorite game to play, but he was damn will good at it. 

"Okay," he said, system booting up with a beep. "If we want to solve this mystery, we might as well know who was the last in the kitchen." He looked around expectantly, and Bim felt his face go white. 

He'd been the last one in the kitchen, cleaning up. He hadn't stolen any of Wilford's candy-- god, no, he wasn't stupid-- but they were going to accuse him, he was sure of it. 

"Bim!" Wilford was saying, trying to get his attention. 

Bim jumped out of his thoughts. "Y-yeah?"

"You were in the kitchen last, right?"

Bim ran a hand through his hair, trying his best not to fidget. _Best to be honest._ "Yeah, I was there with you, Wilford."

"Did you leave with him?" Oliver looked across the table at him, hard. 

Bim heard himself squeak. "No, I-I stayed a few minutes--"

"You saw where I put my candy," Wilford accused, also glaring at Bim. 

Bim threw his hands up. "Yeah," he admitted, "but I didn't take it!"

Google_G and _R looked Bim over, cataloging.

Google_R came to his conclusion first. "He's lying."

Bim flinched a little, eyeing Wilford. "I-I'm not! Why would I take it?"

"You _do_ want your own game show." 

"Shut up!" Bim swiveled to face the speaker in a fit of frustration, and froze, facing Dark. 

Dark, to Bim's heart-pounding relief, didn't look angry at Bim's outburst, only amused. Dr. Iplier put a gentle hand on Bim's shoulder, leaning him back from the table. 

"Bim's not lying--" Dr. Iplier started. 

"Aha! Because _you_ stole it!" Wilford finished in triumph, turning to face him. 

Dr. Iplier scowled, a dark shadow passing over his face. "No, because Red is wrong. Bim isn't exhibiting symptoms of lying, but of--"

"--anxiety," Google_G finished for him, shooting a worried glance at Bim. 

Bim took a deep breath at the Doctor's hand on his shoulder, trying to think, feeling his face return to its normal color. 

Wilford fingered his gun, embarrassed. Oliver rolled his eyes with a beep of impatience. 

"Who else was in the kitchen, then?" Google_B demanded, still standing by Wilford. The other three Googles, Bim, and the Doctor turned to face them. 

"I can pull up the security tapes," Google_G offered, but Dark interrupted him. 

"I may as well disclose, before you start a witch hunt," he said, leaning forward. " _I_ was in the kitchen, but left before both Trimmer and Warfstache."

Dr. Iplier looked at Bim, both of them wide-eyed. Neither of them were stupid enough to accuse Dark, not outright--

" _YOU_ took my candy!" Wilford roared, lunging forward. Google_B caught him by the chest, restraining him. 

"Obviously, I didn't," Dark said smoothly, reclining in his chair. "But you're all welcome to theorize." 

"But--"

"Will," Dark said, almost gently, "if I _wanted_ to get to you, I'd simply tell everyone here that you _dye_ your gray hairs." He put a hand over his mouth in mock surprise. "Oops."

Wilford's eyes flashed an angry magenta. "I _don't_ ," he snarled. Google_B, arms still wrapped around Wilford's chest, looked almost afraid. 

"That's not the point," Dr. Iplier almost yelled, breaking the tension. All eyes turned to him. "Dark didn't do it, Bim didn't do it--"

"--Because _you_ did it!" Wilford yelled, again. Dr. Iplier sighed. 

"No, I didn't do it, Wilford," he said. 

"Wait, how do we know?" Oliver interrupted, eyebrow raised. 

"Yeah, how do _we_ know?" the Googles chorused, crossing their arms. 

Bim jumped in, seeing Dr. Iplier's face freeze. "I saw him," he said. "Sleeping. When I walked by, on my way to bed." 

Bim looked at them all-- Wilford looking furiously around at them, Dr. Iplier white as a sheet, the Host and Dark coolly listening, and the Googles all glaring. He caught Google_G's eye, and paused, confused. 

Google_G was staring, open-mouthed, at the Host. Bim looked quickly between them, trying to catch a hint. The Host smiled, nodding, face flickering with the habit of a wink. 

The moment passed, Google_G shutting his mouth with a whirr and click. He and the Host seemed to exchange a thought, and the rest of the Egos were sorely left out. 

"How do you know that one of these ridiculous robots didn't do it?" Dark was spurring them on, dangling questions in front of Wilford like a carrot. 

Wilford took the bait, rounding on Google_B as the rest of them glared at Dark. "Did you?" he threatened, waving his gun in Google_B's face. 

Google_B scowled, pushing the gun down. "None of us have digestive systems, Wilford."

"Well--!" 

"You don't have to have a digestive system to want to mess with Wilford," Bim pointed out, quietly. Google_R glared across the table at him, whirring reaching an angry peak. 

"Why would any of us want to..." Google_B started, but fell silent, meeting Oliver's eye. "...never mind."

"What," Bim said, looking from one droid to the other. "What am I missing?"

The Host spoke up for the first time, voice shaking with suppressed laughter. "The Host would like to remind Bim of the time that Wilford put bubbles in each of the Googles' computer ports... and the time he wiped all of their hard drives... and--"

"I get the point," Bim said, giggling. He turned back to Dr. Iplier, who was fighting to keep a straight face, then back at the Googles and Wilford, all glaring at the Host. 

Dark snorted in the silence. 

Wilford threw his hands up in despair. "Which one of you _was_ it, then?" He pointed his gun halfheartedly at each of the Googles, all shaking their heads in denial. 

"Wilford," Google_B said, trying to reason with him, "we are incapable of disobeying a direct order. We cannot lie."

"Okay Googles," Wilford snapped, glaring, "did you take my candy?"

"No," they chorused, eyes flashing blue, green, red, yellow. 

The room fell silent again, and Bim looked frantically around at them all, Wilford's limp, empty bag still in the middle of the table. The only one they hadn't accused was--

"Host," Wilford said, eyes narrowing. "Where were you last night?"

"The Host wrote until late in the night," he said, straight-faced. "He heard Bim walk past his door as he went to sleep."

The table turned to Bim for confirmation, and he nodded. "His candle went out when I walked by."

"Well," Wilford said, run in a hand through his bedhead, "if _you_ didn't do it, and _you_ didn't, and _you_ didn't--" he pointed to each of the Egos in turn, going around the table, "then who _did_?!"

The Host laughed, low and dry, and Dark followed. Bim and Dr. Iplier shifted closer to each other as Dark's aura pulsed. Google_G even joined them with a chuckle. The other Googles and Wilford drew back, staring. 

"What?" Wilford snarled at them, his own light pink aura beginning to glow in anger. 

"The Host would like to suggest that you review the security footage," he said, chuckling. 

Google_G, suppressing a whirr of amusement, turned on the TV behind Wilford remotely. They all turned to the flickering screen, watching intently as Google_G rewound the footage. 

_00:00._

Google_G hit play. 

Dark walked into frame at 2x speed, rummaging through the cabinets before piling the contents of three Cheez-It boxes on a tray and covering it carefully with a towel. 

Dark's aura grew to a painful ringing as Oliver snorted, and Dr. Iplier shook his head. "That's really not health--"

"Green," Dark growled, and the video jumped ahead at 4x speed. 

Bim appeared, talking, smiling, and Dark walked past him out of frame. Bim, at the table, blushed and looked away. Dark's aura receded into him in amusement. 

Bim's black and white figure on the security tape bent over the sink, and Wilford walked in behind him. Bim held up a plate, almost dropped it, and went to talk to Wilford by the pantry. 

Wilford hummed a little in amusement, watching carefully now. Google_G waited until Wilford's arms were full of candy, the pillowcase stowed, before pausing the video. 

"Wilford, who else knew that your candy was there?" 

"No one," Wilford muttered, eyes on the screen. Bim began to understand why the Host was laughing to himself. 

Google_G continued the video at 8x speed, watching the hallways go dark, lit only by the camera's faulty light. In black and white, around 3am, a figure shuffled into frame. 

"Stop!" Wilford yelled, but Google_G didn't need the prompt. The tape slowed to normal speed, and they all watched intently as the figure crossed the kitchen floor to open the pantry. 

The pantry light shone across their face, and the Host, with a smile, narrated what he'd already known. 

"The pantry light shines across Wilford's face, failing to wake him from his slumber. Wilford, still sleepwalking, reaches into the pantry to find his pillowcase of candy exactly as he'd left it. With a flip of his wrist--" the figure on the screen upended the pillowcase, "--Wilford pours the remainder of his candy into his mouth."

Google_G had the presence of mind to pause the video on the frame of Wilford, backlit, candy bulging in his cheeks. 

Bim took a few deep breaths to stop from bursting out in laughter, finally failing. The rest of the room wasn't so kind, each of the Googles whirring in overdrive, chortling, Dr. Iplier very close to tears in laughter, and the Host and Dark smiling in satisfaction. 

With a crack, the crust on the door fell away, and Wilford disappeared in an angry poof of smoke. 

One by one, the Egos filed out, shaking their heads. Bim, clutching his sides, stood up last. Dark was nearly out the door, smoothing his suit. 

"Dark?" A question had just occurred to him. 

"Hm?"

"D'you ever think we're too mean to Wilford?"

"Of course not," Dark said, turning. "How could you ever think that?"

Bim frowned at the mocking tone in Dark's voice. "I mean, I didn't know he sleepwalks, what if he's-- I dunno-- upset about it?"

"Oh, Bim," Dark drew closer, leering. It was just the two of them in the office now, and Dark's aura whipped around them. Bim knew a bad situation when he saw it, and tried to stumble backwards-- he was frozen to the spot.

"Wilford doesn't sleepwalk, you _dunce_." 

"Wh--"

Bim blinked, and suddenly Dark seemed to be a monochrome imitation of Wilford, down to the mustache. 

"I said," Dark-Wilford hissed, leaning closer, "Wilford. Doesn't. Sleepwalk."

In a swirl of black smoke, he was gone, and Bim was left alone with a ringing in his ears.


End file.
